


over and again

by solipsismlemonade



Series: last call for sin [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: 21st century nihilism/ dadaism, As you do, Blind Character, Character Study, Daredevil - Freeform, Matt Murdock - Freeform, Sad Matt Murdock, an unholy amalgamation of comics and tv show, one (1) brief mention of suicidal ideation in a joking manner, very brief - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solipsismlemonade/pseuds/solipsismlemonade
Summary: all these things that i've done - the killers
Series: last call for sin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681792
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	over and again

Matt could hear everything.

This was a gross exaggeration but it really, really felt like it.

For example:

The neighbor below him had been arguing on and off with her roommate for the past three days. She wanted him to move his potted plants over; they were taking up too much windowsill space. Right now she was writing him a note. Matt could hear the scratch and squeak of old Expo marker against paper, something cheap and smooth. A Post-It note? There was the sound of something being smacked against the metal surface next to their sink. Fridge. Probably a Post-It note, then, unless Mara preferred leaving notes on the dishwasher – no, but now that Matt was listening for it, he could hear the clean, quiet hum of a fridge. That meant… yeah. Yeah.

A boy on the sidewalk was idly having a conversation with his mother about what he’d learned in school.

The light changed from green to red. Someone ran the light anyway and a few pedestrians joked that they wished they had been run over. Matt cracked a thin smile at that.

The hum of Mara-and-Will’s dishwasher started up.

Matt would have opened his eyes in an attempt to stop listening in on his neighbors – no matter how long he’d done it for, it never got more comfortable – but that didn’t work. The only thing that might have worked was using the very expensive noise-canceling headphones Foggy had gotten him one time as a joke two years ago.

He hadn’t even taken them out of the box yet, which Foggy didn’t know and Matt didn’t want Foggy to know.

Matt fidgeted for a brief second, finding a spot on the sofa that didn’t feel as uncomfy as the last, and ran the pads of his fingers over another Braille-covered sheet of paper. Red-tinted glasses were resting, tilted, one side of the frame on his laptop keyboard, the other on his coffee table.

Things faded to a less-jagged hum in the background; Matt let the chatter and hum of engines wash over him and recede, wash and recede, noise breaking over him in waves. Yeah. Yeah, this was doable.

Just as he started again to concentrate on the case – the sofa wasn’t quite as lumpy and Mara had left the apartment below, mercifully – there was…

Hah.

Matt’s fingers stilled and he instinctively lifted his head to glance sightlessly out the bank of windows on his right. Glass shattered and fell to the concrete with a dull sound in the distance. Someone hit the ground and rolled, breath huffing out of them. Someone else followed. Boots pounded against the pavement and Matt tensed. There was the cold, heavy click of a gun being cocked.

Daredevil was already calculating angles and distances. It had to be in the building across the street; there was a pawn shop right at the bottom with a side entrance that dealt in high-end jewelry. Matt rose from the couch almost on instinct, fingers going to the knot of his tie as the other picked up the white cane lying on the coffee table –

The harsh sound of a police siren broke through the commotion across the street. The offenders were rounded up and cuffed; Matt could hear the stainless steel _click_ of them closing, the _clunk_ of car doors closing with a heavy finality.

Solved. No need for a masked vigilante. No need for the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt sank back onto his couch and tried not to feel disheartened by it, then tried not to feel like a horrible person for feeling disheartened. The world… it was changing, whether or not Daredevil or Matt Murdock would accept such a thing.

The white cane hit the coffee table again with a precise click.

Matt went back to his papers.

**Author's Note:**

> all these things that i've done - the killers


End file.
